Oh what tangled websites we mortals weave. A skypilot from California sent me these drawings I put on the website:

I stuck the skypilot rocket on top of the original rocket. This morning I got a call from Michael Manes in Columbus, Ohio. In the comics today a kid was asking his mom, how come there isn't an Akron Day, how come there isn't a Cleveland Day, how come there isn't a Cincinnatti Day, but there is a Columbus Day? I didn't get it until I went out to get the mail and didn't get any and then went to the bank and it was closed. Anyway, Michael Manes is the artist who drew the pictures. They are for an album cover by the band, Mezz Recipe. Wonder if they got the name Mezz from Mezz Mezzrow, dixieland clairanet player and friend of Louis Armstrong and other jazz musicians? The album is called Live From Moondog Studios and here is the cover as originally portrayed. My apologies to Michael and Mezz Recipe and I'm encouraging all skypilots to check out the band's websites where you can hear MP3 songs from their album. They're good.

-- Capn Skyp

© Michael Manes

Just in from the band:

hey cap'n thanks for the mention on your site. please make the link to this url.


yes, Mezz is after Mezz Mezzrow.
So, what are the sky pilots???
check out our sound and let me know what ya think.

(Their sound is very good, it's on both websites. As far as Mezz Mezzrow goes, he wrote a great book, Really The Blues, and all pilotheads are instructed to read it Only way you can find out what the mezz recipe really is-- Capn Skyp)



I first discovered Wilfred Owen while working at Scott AFB in Illinois as
a civilian high school kid on the grounds crew and just couldn't stop reading.
The rhythm of his lines I learned he absorbed somewhat from the "sprung
rhythm" of Gerard Manley Hopkins. Who also influenced Dylan Thomas.
Before the war, Owen had some interesting jobs. One was working for a
junk shop. Sometimes his assignment would be to go in search among
flea markets for fine-looking, gilded picture frames. So the shop owner
could unload on bedazzled customers photo reproductions of old masters
he'd steamed off of calendars.
Wilfred Owen's last words were, roughly quoting if memory serves, "Don't
light that damned cigarette," to one of his men in the trenches at dawn on
the front lines seconds before he was killed by a German sniper.
Truly, if ever a poet wrote of that which he knew, Wilfred Owen was him.

-- Skypilot Brian


Wilfred Owen

Dulce Et Decorum Est

Bent double, like old beggars under sacks,
Knock-kneed, coughing like hags, we cursed through sludge,
Till on the haunting flares we turned our backs
And towards our distant rest began to trudge.
Men marched asleep. Many had lost their boots
But limped on, blood-shod. All went lame; all blind;
Drunk with fatigue; deaf even to the hoots
Of disappointed shells that dropped behind.

GAS! Gas! Quick, boys!-- An ecstasy of fumbling,
Fitting the clumsy helmets just in time;
But someone still was yelling out and stumbling
And floundering like a man in fire or lime.--
Dim, through the misty panes and thick green light
As under a green sea, I saw him drowning.

In all my dreams, before my helpless sight,
He plunges at me, guttering, choking, drowning.

If in some smothering dreams you too could pace
Behind the wagon that we flung him in,
And watch the white eyes writhing in his face,
His hanging face, like a devil's sick of sin;
If you could hear, at every jolt, the blood
Come gargling from the froth-corrupted lungs,
Obscene as cancer, bitter as the cud
Of vile, incurable sores on innocent tongues,--
My friend, you would not tell with such high zest
To children ardent for some desperate glory,
The old Lie: Dulce et decorum est
Pro patria mori.

Sweet and becoming it is to die for one's country.

Wilfred Owen died in WWI


Paul Krassner has a new book coming: One Hand Jerking: Reports From an Investigative Satirist-- Here's an extract from the chapter called, A Mellow Howl.

During the Beat Generation panel, Ginsberg said, "I think there was one slight shade of error in describing the Beat movement as primarly a protest movement. That was the thing that Kerouac was always complaining about. He felt the literary aspect or the spiritual aspect or the emotional aspect was not so much protest at all, but a declaration of unconditioned mind beyond protest, beyond resentment, beyond loser, beyond winner--way beyond winner--beyond winner or loser...but the basic thing that I understood and dug Jack for was unconditioned mind, negative capability, totally open mind--beyond victory or defeat. Just awareness, and that was the humor, and that's what the saving grace is. That's why there will be political aftereffects, but it doesn't have to win because having to win a revolution is like having to make a milliion dollars."


The final piece of the woodpile puzzle is in place

Can this mess be reversed?

Comes A Time

photo by Robert Minkin, copyrighted, don't use, please

For more Minkin pics go to:


This past Saturday there was a Jerry Garcia tribute and Rex Foundation benefit at the Greek Theater in Berkeley, California with all the usual suspects in attendance and performing. For more info about the Rex Foundation go to:


Comes A Time ~ A Celebration
of the Music & Spirit of Jerry Garcia

Featuring (in alphabetical order)

Trey Anastasio
Hamza el Din
Mickey Hart
Warren Haynes
Jimmy Herring
Bruce Hornsby
Gloria Jones
Bill Kreutzmann
Jackie LaBranch
Donna Jean
David Nelson
Sandy Rothman
Melvin Seals

String Cheese Incident Members:
Jason Hann, Michael Kang, Keith Moseley, and Bill Nershi

Bob Weir and Ratdog Members:
Kenny Brooks, Jeff Chimenti, Mark Karan, Jay Lane and Robin Sylvester

Skypilot Sgt. O'Reilly from Chicago was in attendance and sent this lengthy report:

...I would like to tell a little story called "28
Hours on the Ground in Berkeley"..."...It was a dark and stormy night..."
...oops, wrong story...
let me start again...
so I'm on standby out of O'Hare on the last non-stop to Oakland...take the last BART from Oakland to Berkeley at 12:30 a.m., that's a story right there, some interesting cats ride those rails at that hour...
I'm gonna go to the end of the story first, an
epiphany if you will, that I've struggled with at
various stages in my deadhead career
It's all about family, people! That's what this is, and what sets it apart!
the awesome (((Greek Theatre)))...like if they built a
place to see the Dead in my backyard, cozy, and the
concrete steps had just been poured, so they became
form fitting by the end of the night...

ok, now back to our story...so I get into downtown
Berkeley at about 1 am on show day, and my travel
motto, "When in Rome, drink like you're Irish" was soon
manifest as I found an Irish pub on Shattuck with an
R&B band playing where I was able to quaff efficiently
in the presence of two credible witnesses...

unceremoniously tossed from the pub at 2am due to a
quaint local custom called "quittin' time", I thought
it as a good a time as any to curl up at the bus stop
bench on Allston and catch some shut eye before the
morning's events--seems my agent (greedy bastard) had
over-booked me for some Saturday appearances, and I
needed, nay, required, my beauty sleep... I awoke to
your typical cloudless California day, where I was
compelled to take a walking tour of the Cal-Berkeley
campus, a lovely sight to behold on a quiet Saturday
morning, when, after powdering my nose at the library
men's room (I had never been in a college library when
I went to college), I made the great climb, like
Hillary on Everest, to the Greek. I had the honor of
meeting the gentleman, who I shall call "No. 1", who
was first in line at the Greek, all by his lonesome,
then quickly made the acquaintance of the lone
security guard, who gave me a sneak peak of the

Wow! I was gettin' excited already... however,
treatment for symptoms resulting from too much time in
an airport bar, and the local Irish pub, required
immediate attention, I was discouraged to find a
breakfast place with a sign that advertised something
called "lowfat", nevertheless, I discovered this was
merely a ruse to discourage the locals, for the
purveyor dished out old fashioned sausage, bacon, ham,
eggs, muffins, home fries, slathered in good
ol'butter--this was consumed with great dispatch... my
agent then told me of a hippie shakedown that
regularly takes place on Telegraph, this I witnessed
with thine own eyes (Mickey had been sighted perusing
the bazaar) before I was compelled to eat yet more
food of the south of the border variety, with some
ne'er do-wells that my agent, in an herculean feat of
charity, had baled out from the local pokey the night
before...we ate something called a Super Burrito,
seats fiveI soon found myself in the very bowels of
San Francisco hippiedom, where chocolate has
apparently replaced weed as the drug of choice...

photo by Are We Really? of Sunshine, M.g. Barbara, Wavy

huddled together were Mountain Girl and her
beautiful daughter Annabelle and her significant
other, Scott, and Wavy Gravy was downing my friend the
Chef's chocolates like they were handfuls of peanuts.
Then, I was discovered by R We Really?, who having put
on the show together with his fellow Rex board
members, tried his damnedest to have me removed from
the venue, but to no avail, I was too persistent, and
when the Intrepid Traveller had called his cellphone
from the Oregon-USC game to tell him it was preferable
to have me in a controlled environment with security
personnel on the perimeter, that crisis resolved
itself... ( Just kidding about R We Really?, he was as
gracious a host as ever, a gentleman in every respect,
and I thought I could use him as a comic foil, given
his great sense of humor.)

photo by Are We Really?

alas, there was music to see and hear and
experience, sorta what brought us altogether with
Jerry in the first place, oh yeah, Jerry, that's why
we're here, so I went to my assigned seats... ...and I
looked around and was blown away by the Greek, and I
thought, that stage was shared by Jerry Garcia and
Teddy Roosevelt, two American originals, who changed
our country for the better.... I very much enjoyed the
music offered up for the evening. Sandy and David.
String Cheese, who I had never seen, offered up some
sweet Dead gems. JGB. Melvin and Merl, Jackie and
Gloria... RD, and the super Jerry band...Trey, Warren,
Jimmy, Bruce, Mark, Jay, Robin, Jeff, Mickey,
Billy...thought they sounded great, and loved the
tunes...guess my head was in a better place...

photo by robert Minkin, copyrighted, don't use elsewhere please

one of
my biggest thrills was turning Betty Cantor-Jackson
and Bob Matthews onto the Chef's awesome chocolates
(Betty was the only "celeb" whom I insisted on having a
photo with, I mean c'mon, Betty Boards, people!)
...and standing over the shoulder of the gentle
Stanley Mouse sketching a Jerry portrait in pencil on
an envelope in response to a radio interviewer's
question about what his thoughts of the evening were..
the sentiment behind the show was very sweet, the
impetus of which had started with Jerry's family,
Annabelle advised, it was the first time that the
family had given the official stamp of approval to a
Jerry tribute, and I thought Bob did a beautiful job
of pulling off the stage part...not surprised, they
were best bud's...

of course, my agent had secured
tickets for the front row, so I watched much of the
super band set, while physically leaning with my arm
on the stage, just to the stage left of the lead
guitar spot, and at one point I thought, these are
good seats, too...Warren sang beautifully and
heartfelt, Trey?, dude, sorry I ignored you before,
you rock, Michael Kang! that dude is totally gifted,
Jimmy, getting very comfortable with this dead
material, Bruce! was tremendous, Jeff, as always, big
fan, Robin did yeoman work on the bass, and the
((rhythm devils)).... Jerry would've loved it all.

I must pause for a few words on
Chef's chocolates. They are incredible. The Pistachio
toffee is like storming heaven. Madagascar Vanilla
Bean with dancing skeletons? a coup de chocolat!...
and, got a shuttle to OAK at 4am after the show and I
was able to coach a flag football game back in Chicago
by 1:30 in the afternoon and watch my 10 year old son
catch a spiral 20 yard touchdown pass!!!...woohoo,
great company, great weekend, great music, great
family!!!!! Regarding the chocolates that M.G. and Annabelle
enjoyed, go to:


-- Sgt. O'reilly


The frost is on the punkin. 29 degrees this morning. Looks like it's time to fire up the furnace. But wait a minute. It's a propane furnace. Cost of propane is up to $2.38 a gallon. Last spring when I had the tank filled it was $1.95. Worse than that, the guy who delivers the propane sold his small truck and he wan't take his big truck over my bridge. I can put the tank on a trailer and haul it out to the road and he can fill it from there. What the hell, can't fight them, join them.

Steve, my neighbor across the street has an old steel trailer been sitting in his yard for years. What do you want for it, I asked him. Oh, he said, what do you want for the rear end out of your vidie van? We have a deal. So I wirebrushed the trailer and painted it and took the flat tires off and got a couple of used tires put on the rims.

Thar she sits, awaiting the tank. Soon's Steve is feeling better from the dastardly cold got him down, he'll bring his tractor over, pick up the tank with the bucket on the front of the tractor, carry the tank over to his place and set her in place. All goes according to hoyle, we'll weld the legs of the tank to the trailer and be ready to rock and roll.

And in a moment of exploration I drove over to Lowell on the other side of the lake and found out they'll fill the tank at the gas station for $1.75 a gallon.

Neighbor Steve came over with his tractor and picked up the tank and carried it across the bridge, across the road, over to his place for the putting of the tank upon the trailer.

Nice and easy, there's still some propane in that tank. Set her down easy. Pyrotechnics we don't need.

Pyrotechnics we may not need, but sparks are necessary if you going to weld that tank solid onto the trailer. Need a hose with water? I asked Steve. Naw, he said, if there's a fire we can get it on film. Spoke too soon. There was a fire. The dry grass caught and took off and I ran for the hose and water and put out the fire but didn't take any pictures, too overwrought.

We is all set. Tank not only welded and bolted to the trailer frame but a strapping tape around the cylinder, too. Note the neato trailer jack. Now for the fun part. Hook the rig to the back of my pickup and drive five miles down the highway, across the lake and into the town of Lowell to fill the tank. The trip goes good. The trailer rides straight and true. Get the rig home and put the tank and trailer in place.

Thar she sits, next to the spare tank which is used while the trailertank goes to get filled. Got this project done, chalk up another one, now on to the next.

-- Capn Skyp



It was the autumnal equinox, the first day of fall, slipped right in there so fast, whoosh, hardly noticed what with all the excitement and you have to admit we do indeed live in exciting times. No sooner one big event comes crashing on us than another blindsides us from behind or underneath or outta the sky. Stay alert, skypilots, while whistling and singing and keeping the spirits aloft, can't be bogged down, nosiree, even Humpty Dumpty, who didn't have much of a summer, is looking forward to a great fall.

Capn Skyp,
Here's something from a new friend. When I asked about
passing it on she said, "I wrote parts of it, some is
from an old Norse invocation from my Viking heritage.
Please pass it on but remove my info and

The year wheel has turned.
The harvest has come again.

I have sowed many thought seeds
and heart seeds
since last Autumn.

Let the good be harvested.
Let those that would hurt
or hinder me be cast aside.

Like calls to like.
Need calls to need.
We are all connected.
And the wheel turns...

Alright all youse skypilotclubsters:
This is Sergeant Inzaniac, with special orders sure to be approved from higher up....

It is high time for a "trip"!
Here is how to study to get your wings:
Go to


and download this free program called Google Earth.

here is the website with pics


Install as necessary, strap on all safety equipment, learn all of the controls, and go exploring!
When you find someplace excellent, please report back with the coordinates!

That is all for now,
At ease



Whaddareyagonna do, what with the Hurricane aftermath still going on and all the reminders of nine eleven whopping us; nodding to do but getwidit and do everything that has to be done and not sit around an mope and look under mouse droppings for the conspiracies and the failures, that's a black hole you can disappear into and never come out. I heard somewhere that kudzu tablets are good for alcoholism. I'll drink to that.

-- Capn Skyp